


The Journals of Glinda Upland

by toastweasel



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: F/F, Gelphie, Headcanon, Musicalverse, bookverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastweasel/pseuds/toastweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 years after the dead of the Wicked Witch, a young Fliaan hunter stumbles upon a cabin on the edge of the lake. Inside he finds two bodies and a writing desk full of handwritten journals. He starts to read the journals in hopes of identifying the bodies--and discovers a tale almost too extraordinary to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Journal 1

**Author's Note:**

> The journal entries begin 10 years after Elphaba's "death" and 15 years after she "defected" from Oz. The dates are based on the 1939 movie, so the date Glinda is writing from (1949) is ten years after Elphaba's death.
> 
> The story that is told is told from the POV of an OC, Teryn, and it begins 28 years after Elphaba's death, or 13 years after Glinda's journal entries begin. For those playing at home and doing math, Teryn is 13. 
> 
> This is crossposted on ff.net.

It had been long, hard hunting trip, full of narrowly missed shots and fires that would not start, and Teryn just wanted to return home. But the winter was coming, and if he returned home empty handed, his family would not eat for the next month.

He knew there was a lake nearby that was fed by snow melt and a few natural springs. Perhaps he could nab a deer who stopped to drink. He packed up his camp, took up his bow, and started his long hike down the mountain, following a happy burbling brook until he cleared the trees. He stuck to the tree line, an arrow nocked on his bowstring, watching the swaying poppies ahead of him for the telltale sign of deer.

Seeing nothing, he looked around, debating between climbing a tree and curling up to wait, or hiding in the poppies. Eventually the tree won out. He scrambled up it with all the dexterity of a Monkey, then settled down, a new arrow nocked. Teryn could see all the way across to the lake, and for a moment he watched the dying poppies sway in the breeze before turning to scan the area.

All of was quiet and normal—except for a box in the middle of the poppies. It was dark and square and Teryn was insanely curious as to what it was doing there. Was it a trap? Had he stumbled into the hunting grounds of someone else? What would you catch in such a box? It was too small for deer or bear…perhaps raccoon?

Despite his curiosity, the boy stuck to his tree. Hunting was more important. Nightfall was approaching and twilight was the best time to hunt deer. However, no deer came to the lake that night, much to Teryn's displeasure. He slept fitfully in the tree until dawn when he decided to cut his losses. He slid down the tree then, because the curiosity still burned inside him, went to go inspect the box.

He pushed through the poppies, their drying stalks crunching as he walked. Eventually he found the box, only to discover it was not really a box at all. It was an apiary.

The boy had seen them before—the beekeeper of his village had a cluster behind his home. But it was obvious this one was old and disused—the wood was weathered and gray, and some animal had broken into it, scattering the bees to the wind. A shame, Teryn would have loved some honey.

Curiosity mostly sated, the Fliaan started towards the other side of the poppy field. He had just begun to walk along the game trail that wound its way up the hill when he heard a growl. He froze, hand tightening on the grip of his bow, and looked toward where the growl had come from.

A huge black wolf was standing a bit up the path, hackles raised, staring at him with yellow eyes. Teryn held back a squeak of fear. He'd never been so close to a wolf before.

"H-Hello?" he called, hoping to the Unnamed God that he'd encountered a Wolf. "Are you a Wolf, or a wolf?"

The wolf—for it did not respond, so he figured it must be just a wolf and not a Wolf—stared at him for a long time. Then it slowly settled back on its haunches and turned, walking back up the path. Teryn watched as it walked to the top of the hill—barked—then continued over and out of sight.

The boy could not believe that had just happened. Cautiously (and probably with incredibly stupidity) he crept up after the wolf, hand still firmly on his bow with an arrow nocked. When he topped the crest of the hill—which he later realized was actually just a swale- he saw a small house nestled along the tree line.

The house must belong to the owner of the apiary! Teryn realized excitedly. He hurried across the flat area, past an abandoned stable and chicken coup, to the side door. It was wide open, and instantly the Fliaan realized something was wrong. Who left their door open like that?

"Hello?" he called then held his breath, waiting for someone to answer back. Nobody did. He tried again. "Hello? Anybody here? Excuse me?"

Again nobody answered.

With a sense of foreboding, Teryn pushed the door open a little farther with his foot. When nothing happened he cautiously entered the room on the other side. It was a small kitchen, with a door and ladder to a loft directly opposite him, a stove to his left, and wood cabinets and countertops to his right. It was neat and orderly, if a little dusty. Obviously it had not been used in some time.

The Fliaan saw there was a doorway to his right so he walked through it and into a front room—two chairs and a table sat by the front window, while two armchairs sat by the empty fireplace. The walls were lined with bookshelves, obviously hand hewn, one filled with books, the other candles and trinkets, and still others jars and bottles of Oz Knew What. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, cloaks by the door, and an axe, shovel, and fishing equipment leaned in a corner.

It was a beautiful little sitting room, Teryn thought, but it still did not explain why the house was empty. Surely the owners of the house—for there must have been two, with such a set up—would not leave such a well-furnished house without locking it up.

There was a whine and Teryn looked to see the wolf sitting in the doorway he had just entered. The wolf looked almost sad, and when they made eye contact the wolf whined again.

"Why are you here?" Teryn asked the wolf. "Did you know the people who lived here?"

Another whine, and the wolf walked out of the doorway, towards the secondary side door. Teryn followed, and was amazed to catch a glimpse of the large, black wolf vanishing up the entryway into the loft.

"Am I supposed to follow you up there?" the boy asked, already putting his bow around his neck and climbing.

When his head cleared the port, he caught a glimpse of another bookshelf, a small writing desk, and several baskets, but his attention was immediately drawn to the bed—and the two skeletons that lay entangled there.

Instantly, Teryn felt bile rise in his throat and he had to look away.

The owners of the house were dead in their bed!

He began to back down from the ladder but was stopped by a sharp bark. Before he knew what was going on, the wolf had grabbed him by his tunic and tugged him fully into the loft. A whine, more tugging, and Teryn found himself at the edge of the bed.

The boy forced himself to look up at the bodies. They were both completely skeletonized, to his relief. They had obviously been dead for some time. Skeletons he could deal with—partially decomposed human bodies he could not. He respectfully inspected the two. They entangled in each other—one large one and one obviously much smaller one, half covered by dust-covered and moth-eaten sheets. They must have been lovers, for neither one wore clothing.

"Who are you?" Teryn asked the two skeletons, as if they could answer back. The last people he knew of living in this area had been mauled by a crazed bear before he had been born. These two could not possibly be the same, for they looked like they had both passed away in their sleep, rather than had their limbs ripped limb from limb.

He turned to the rest of the room for answers. The woven baskets held clothing—neatly folded (if dusty) cotton dresses in one, a mixture of dresses and mens work clothing in the other. Not much to say there, no names written inside, so he turned to the bookshelf. As he looked through the books he noticed the wolf had curled up on a flattened and derelict cushion of some kind beside the bed.

Who keeps a wolf as a pet?

While all the books on the shelf were interesting—spell books and herb books and books on healing and even a few on architecture—they held no names or marks of identification. Frustrated, Teryn turned to the writing desk.

It opened at his touch and revealed several pots of ink, pens, and a row of neat journals along the top. The leather of the journals was green and slightly faded, with dates written on paper and then posted along the spine. Teryn reached for the first one, dated almost thirty years prior, and opened it to the first page.

In curling script along the middle of the first page were the words _'This journal is property of Lady Glinda Upland._ '


	2. Journal 2

**Journal 2**

Teryn's head nearly lept out of his chest. Lady Glinda Upland! The ex-leader of Oz who had vanished one night from the Emerald City Palace and had never been heard from again! He had learned about the incident in neighboring Oz during a history lesson when he was young. The disappearance had happened just after he had been born. Many had speculate she had been kidnaped or run away from her duties, butthe Ozian matriarch had never been found.

Shaking, Teryn looked over at the bed, then back at the journal in his hands. Was it Lady Upland who lay in that bed behind him?

He turned the page in the journal and saw more of the same flowing cursive that marked the journal as Lady Upland's. Curious he began to read.

-/-

**March 15, 1949**

I wish I could start a new journal with better news, but it seems I am cursed. The nightmares have, of course, continued. They always do around the Anniversary. And they are, of course, always worse. The pills can only do so much….I did not sleep last night.

To make matters worse, Quox is being difficult again. That is to be expected, I suppose, but it is driving me mad trying to negotiate with them for the release of the Vinkan hostages. They refuse to budge, wanting to know what Vinkan soldiers were doing in Quox before they offer any sort of deal. Honestly I would like to know why Vinkan warriors were doing so far from home, but the Vinkan's won't tell me, so I can't mediate very well either way. I still do not know how I ended up as the middleman but…it seems here I am.

I need some air. I need to find the time to get away to the soup kitchen, hopefully sooner rather than later.

-/-

**March 17, 1949**

It seems the soup kitchen must wait. The advisers want to begin planning a third Ozian Tour. As if I'm not dealing with the Qoux issue already. Oz is apparently getting restless from the tensions between Quox and the Vinkus—meaning that it is time for Glinda the Good to make her rounds, to calm the unwashed masses and bring hope.

Which means traveling by carriage for days at a time. I used to love to travel. Now it has just become a bore.

I must meet with Anita to begin discussing my wardrobe choices for the Tour, because what I wear in certain places has a placating (or incendiary) effect on the people who live there and see me. It all depends on what I wear, the cuts, the fabrics, the stylings.

If I had more time I would most like to study the effects of fashion on others—it is fascinating stuff. I'm sure Elphie would be appalled that I've undergone such mind deception, but I can't very well sit on a powder keg, can I? I've done what I could in Elphaba's name. I try to work in it every day…but sometimes, I can't both please my advisors and live in remembrance of Elphie.

Speaking of Elphaba, I've been a week without taking the hallucination potion and I'm pleased to report I've had no return of the images. But the nightmares….they are getting worse. The Anniversary is the day after tomorrow, so it's no wonder. I wonder if I'll be able to sleep tomorrow or the next night?

I plan to slip away to the soup kitchen then. The streets will be full of revelers, drunk as sin. Nobody will recognize me, especially if I don trousers, abstain from makeup, and hide my hair under a scarf.

It's amazing how easily you disappear when you remove from yourself your most distinguishing characteristics.

-/-

**March 18, 1949**

It's raining. I can hear it pitter pattering against my window. Technically it's the morning of the 19th, but I don't care. The nightmares woke me up, and then the rain kept me awake.

The rain reminds me of Elphaba. It was one of the only things that terrified her.

Maybe it brings me solace because it reminds me of when we curled up and bed and listened to the rain outside, but we were safe and warm and dry and did not know the world was actually an unfair miserable wretch of a place.

**March 19, 1949**

Elphaba is alive! I cannot believe it. I am not sure if I can put the night into words, because it was just that extraordinary. I'm full of so many emotions—happiness, anger, confusion, hurt, love…

Oz.

I went out after dark—midnight or so—to the soup kitchen. I wore my trousers and blouse, had my hair up, and my best worst cloak… it's no wonder she did not recognize me. Nobody else recognized me, but they were either too drunk or too drugged.

And then I rounded a corner and I quite literally bumped into her. I did not recognize her, either, not at first. Lots of people dress up and paint themselves green for the Anniversary—I thought she was just another reveler. But then she stepped in a puddle and swore quite extensively—and I heard her voice!

Then I thought she was a hallucination. Because they always look and sound just like her. But they never touch me…. I swore and screamed and told her to go away—as if that works for mirages—and I almost went straight home to take my pills.

But then Elphaba grabbed my arm. She grabbed my arm and asked me why the dignified leader of Oz was pretending to scream at walls. Asked me if it was for my amusement.

I watched her die. I saw Dorothy Gale throw a bucket of water on her and watched as her body melted away.

I think my heart stopped when she touched me. I'm fairly certain I stood and gaped at her like one of those fish in the pond. She was there in front of me. Her clothes were fraying and torn and falling apart, her cloak was so thin it was practically nonexistent, she was gaunt and pale and weather beaten, her lips were chapped, her hair knotted, and when she spoke her voice cracked as if it had been unused for a very long time….

But it was her. Still taller than necessary, still with those beautiful brown eyes, and still green as sin.

My Elphie. My Elphaba Thropp. Alive.

So much happened after that.

I got angry. I screamed at her. I said horrible things. All the emotions from ten years just spilled out….I ranted and raved and swore and I slapped her. (My hand still hurts.) And we shouted at each other, and I shoved her some and then…then I cried. And she held me (awkwardly) and nuzzled my head (also somewhat awkwardly—no doubt used to my curls) and the whole time she was apologizing...

She left me. By myself. To rule Oz and think she was dead and pick up her mess. I'm still beside myself at that. I'm more hurt than words can possibly describe. How could she do that to me? How could she think that any amount of apology could make up for ten years of potions and pills and hysteria treatments and… well, ten years of hell?

Elphaba and I talked…we went to the soup kitchen and I got us food (she needs a week or three of solid meals—she's skin and bones) and then we went to the Animal shelter I knew would be safe and we talked.

We talked about so many things… We talked and we fought…

Fiyero is also alive, apparently. He spirited Elphaba away from that wretched tower and helped her heal her wounds. I got so angry about that. I had thought the Gale Force had murdered him, too…

Elphaba had to relearn how to walk, to speak, to dress… Fiyero helped with that, I'm sure… but after she had healed she left him… Oz knows where Fiyero is now. I'll have to look into it discreetly.

Elphie traveled the world after that, a specter among the living, until she returned to Oz two years ago…and she wandered into the Emerald City. She had no idea what day it was until she heard my speech broadcast over a communal radio.

She told me all of this, and it was practically light by the time she had finished. I had to go before the change of the guard…it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Knowing Elphaba, she won't be there tomorrow. I told her to stay put, so I can find her tomorrow, so I can bring her supplies…I hope she listened.

When I left she kissed me goodbye…I'd forgotten how wonderful it was to kiss her. I'm not ashamed to admit I kissed her back.

I've missed her so. And as angry as I am that she left me….I'm so very thankful she made her way back to me in the end.

I've got to go—it is almost time for me to be woken properly. I haven't slept, but I will have to soldier through the day. And then I need to go out and fetch supplies for Elphaba. She can't stay in the city, not for very long.

Imagine if word got out that she had survived after all… this time, she might not survive the witch hunt that comes for her.

Supply list for Elphaba:

-Find the Grimmerie ?

\- Find her broom ?

\- A new dress (black)

-New cloak (black)

-New boots (10 - black)

-Gloves, leather and cloth (black)

-Pants (black)

-Medical salves & supplies

-Money

-Food

-A bag to put it all in (black)


	3. Journal 3

**March 20, 1949**

She was right where I left her yesterday, thank Oz. She seemed so paranoid that night, I did not think she would stay in that rented room. But she did; I found her there in the room after I slipped out earlier tonight.

The only thing I could not find was her broom. I looked high and low for it, but it was not (to my knowledge) in any of the storage rooms. I did find the Grimmerie though—tucked away back in the Library. I'm not certain how it got there—perhaps Dorothy put it there, I remember she had it when she came back—but I put that in the bag.

Elphaba did not seem to care for much of the things I brought her—but oh, that book. It was a struggle to get her to change because all she wanted to do was pour over its pages again. I'm glad it is good in somebody's possession—Oz knows I was never able to read it.

I put her in those new clothes, and made her eat, and then I was all set for a tearful goodbye and to never see her again—because it is not safe here in the city for it, it never will be—when she kissed me. She grabbed me and kissed me so hungrily that for a moment I did not think it was the same woman.

It has been so long since I was kissed like that.

And then she pulled me onto the bed and one thing led to another and… we made love.

It was awkward at first. We've both changed so much since our little escapades between the sheets at Shiz. But she was as gentle and as careful as she was at Shiz, and she remembered everything that drives me wild. I had to cover my mouth when I came, otherwise I would have alerted the whole shelter to our activities.

And she still loves her neck bitten, her button lip tugged, her nipples sucked. She still shudders silently and bites her lip when she peaks, still whimpers when she's teased. She's still my Elphie.

**March 21, 1949**

The Ozdamn Gale Force would be running night trials tonight. I don't dare go see Elphe tonight.

I hope she's there tomorrow…

**March 27, 1949**

I'm currently among the clouds, Elphaba is lying with her head in my lap with a bullet in her side, and we're somewhere over Fliaan. So much has happened in the past few days.

On March 22st, I returned to the shelter with more supplies; a comb, some oils, warm socks, twine, a whetstone for Elphaba's knife, a sewing kit, more money, and more food.

I found Elphaba antsy to go. She'd spent too much time in one place, she said. I wanted her to stay…and after a night spent together in that small room (with everything that entails) I somehow found myself agreeing to let her follow me home to the palace.

We made it to my rooms safely, and we spent three days together. In that space of time, we fought several times—first about the true identity of her father, when she saw the green bottle the Wizard gave me alongside hers. After that I was cruel about my years of pills and potions, and she lost her temper at me.

We spent a few hours after that trying to piece ourselves back together… And then, after she had made love to me (because she's always been better with actions, then words), she gave me her mother's ring and asked me to run away with her.

It took time to convince me—I was reluctant to leave Oz, but eventually she managed. How could I ever say no to her? We spent the second day planning—what we'd need, where we'd go, how I would disguise my flight…

Then on the third day I went to tell my advisors of my impending retirement… Elphaba snuck out of my rooms to try to find her broom. She found her broom, but on her way back she encountered a guard…and she had to kill him.

We knew then we had to flee. I packed my simplest dresses and undergarments (and all of my pants), a few scarves to wrap my hair in, money, some food, the bottles, my expensive jewelry, an inkwell and pen, and two journals. I couldn't take them all—there are almost twenty—but I brought the journal I kept in Shiz and this one. I don't need to remember the horrible years I spent without Elphaba…

We dressed in our warmest, most practical (I had more choices then Elphie did) and took off into the night on her broom. It was so very cold and I spent a majority of the flight cuddled against her for warmth. She might be a stick, but she has always been a space heater.

We flew all night, eventually sleeping in the forest, cuddled at the base of a tree. I can't say that tree sleeping agrees with me, but it was only one night. The next night, we stopped in Frottica…and I saw my mother. I tried to lie to her about why I was leaving, but mothers always know.

Elphaba came in and my momsie was angry but…it worked out, I suppose. She blessed Elphaba and I, and she gave me the family heirlooms…and after I fetched a couple of things, Elphaba had to wipe Momsie's memory…

Leaving her was the worst thing I've had to do.

We flew all night, and at Fliaan border, the Gale Force was stationed…and as we tried to cross, Elphie was shot. Everything was covered in blood…I got us out, but I haven't been able to do anything besides try to ease the pain…

We'll be at our new home soon…or so Elphaba says… She's asleep, which is why I'm taking the time to write this. When we get there we'll have to do something about the bullet in her side, and then…we'll start making our life.

Thank Oz I packed medical supplies.


	4. Journal 4

**March 28, 1949**

We got the bullet out.

We landed yesterday at our new home. It's a two room cottage…house…thing. It was abandoned a long time ago, or so Elphaba says. She found it last year and stayed there for a while. There's not much-a couple of thin blankets, an old bed frame and empty mattress sack, a bucket, some fishing gear, some gardening and wood tools…that's about it. Thankfully there is a fireplace and a source of water nearby. We've got a well on the west side of the house and a very pretty lake is down the hill on the east. There's a very pretty field surrounding the lake. It is early spring so not much has grown into something recognizable yet. I hope it's full of wildflowers.

It's very beautiful and I already love it and look forward to living here a long time…so long as Elphaba does not exsanguinate or die of infection on me, first….

Which reminds me. The bullet.

She got it out, after we boiled her knife to disinfect it. She dug it out of her own side but fainted after, so I had to stitch it up. That was horrible. I don't think I could do it for anybody else but Elphie. I used my magic to relieve the pain as best as I could. I stripped and boiled for bandages the threadbare curtains that were here. They are currently hanging on the dilapidated line that's connected to the well.

It is currently morning. We slept on the ground on one of the blankets, used one to cover ourselves, and the one full of holes we rolled up and used as a pillow. It will have to do until Elphaba heals enough to get the matressed stuffed with dry grass and hay.

I have to change Elphie's bandages when she wakes. She's currently conked out—I might have used a bit of magic to help that. She's so stubborn, she would probably try to get to work as soon as she can, which would undoubtedly pull the stitches. I love her, but if she pulls a stitch I might have to kill her.

**March 29, 1949**

Elphaba has grey hairs. I noticed it a while ago, when we first bumped into each other, but with everything going on and then fleeing from Oz, this is the first time I have been able to really write about it.

I don't have grey, but she does…. the stress of her life on the run, I suppose. I think they suit her. She talked—still talks—like a wizened philosopher in Shiz, but now that she has grey hairs, I think it helps her fit the part.

They are most visible in the light. I helped her move outside and she's sitting on a blanket in the grass, stretched like a cat in a sun beam. I'm surprised she's not completely naked—but then it is a bit too cold for that.

But her hair. It's always been black, but when the sun is on it her hairs looks more brown. The grey bits glisten like silver. And since we've been together and I got her the necessary supplies she has been starting to take care of it. Soon, I'm sure, it will shine like it used to. Right now it's out, because I just helped her brush it (she can't reach back, poor thing, with her side the way it is) and she did not want me to brush it quite yet.

She's antsy to get to work on the house. She wants to extend the fireplace chimney and build a loft so we don't have to sleep in the main roof. I've refused to let her until she heals. We can sleep downstairs as long as necessary.

….

Elphie asked me what I was writing about this morning and I told her….she told me to stop writing about her grey hairs. I'm writing this just to spite her!

**March 30, 1949**

In my boredom I searched through the cabinets in the side room, which has an old wood stove and a counter, and I found some plant seeds. There are planters on the side of the house will the well, so we decided to start a garden. We've no idea how old the seeds are so we're soaking them and I've been working on weeding the garden. We'll plant in the next couple of days.

Elphaba is practically losing her mind without anything to do. Thankfully there is the Grimmerie to keep her occupied—she even found a slicing charm! We used it to cut the grass! Now the grass is drying so we can use it in a few days to stuff the mattress skin. Sleeping on the floor is getting old.

I'm also starting a list for town. We're going to have to go and get supplies eventually. I'm already very tired of eating bread, cheese, and nuts.


	5. Journal 5

**April 2, 1949**

We stuffed the mattress with grass today. Elphaba said it will be awhile until she finishes up with the loft, so we might as well sleep on something more comfortable. We set up a sort of assembly line. I carted the grass in, she stuffed. We finished before noon then had nuts for lunch. We’re out of bread.

I made the bed. We still don’t have pillows, but after we eventually go to town (which we really have to do soon!) we’ll buy some flour so we can make bread ourselves and we’ll make pillows from the sacks.

At least until we can figure out a way to make money so we can buy some nicer fabric.

**April 4, 1949**

Elphaba officially couldn’t stand it any longer. This morning she bandaged up her side tight, pulled on the shirt and trousers and took the pickaxe and went looking for rocks. She’s been floating them back with magic about once an hour. They are all about the size of my head. After she has enough she says she’s going to need my help to go wade along the lake edge and help her collect sand and clay so we can mix a mortar.

She’s been planning on extending the fireplace and then building the loft around that. Two days ago she took a stick of charcoal from the fireplace and doodled a little floor and a half plan with rough measurements and such right on the wall! I got angry at her, but she promised to clean it off and whitewash it when she’s done.

Meanwhile, we’ve gotten a lot done. Or mostly I have. I finished weeding the garden and with a bit of guidance from Elphaba I used the pickaxe (for the first time!) and turned the soil, then planted lots of rows of the seeds we rejuvenated. Some of them were even starting to spout when we planted them!

I water them every day from the well. Soon we’ll have an entire bed of corn, and lettuce and tomatoes and squash! I’m so excited!

**April 5, 1949**

Elphaba brought home two chickens and a goat this afternoon. I’ve got no clue where she got them from, but consider they aren’t looking the best, I bet she stole them from someone who was not treating them well. I can’t say I’m _happy_ that she’s stealing things but I suppose they are better with us then with someone who is not taking care of them.

We put them out in a bubble on the lawn and the goat is practically mowing the grass down and the chickens are scratching and rolling in the dust and catching bugs. I’m glad to see they are happy.

Elphaba took a break from finding rocks and instead built a pen to the side of the house for the chickens and goats. She nestled it against the abandoned stable—the stable she still has to fix up so we can get a horse.

She’s really handy with her hands—she cut down a couple of trees with the axe and set about notching and stacking them. She cut more notches in the top layer, cut down a bunch of saplings and made a lean-to roof. She was done before dark! She says in a few days when she is done with the chimney she is going to weave some grass into the sapling lean-to roof so it’s waterproof.

I wonder where she learned all this stuff. From her time on the run maybe? Did she make shelters for herself? I would ask, but getting her past out of her is hard.

\---

Town List:

  *          flour
  *          bread
  *          nuts
  *          a knife for me
  *          a shovel (?)
  *          soap
  *          jars for canning (?)
  *          salt
  *          other bread supplies
  *          cloth for new curtains (?)



Elphaba needs:

  *          nails
  *          a hammer




	6. Journal 6

**April 7, 1949**

We still have yet to go to town.

We're almost out of food and Elphaba is in the middle of the fireplace extension so we can't go yet. However, since we have fishing gear from the previous owners, before she continued on today Elphaba taught me how to fish. She taught me how to go to the banks of the lake and pound the ground for worms, how to get one and put it on the hook, how to catch a fish….even how to kill and gut it.

She looked quite ill when we had to kill and gut it but in true Elphaba style she grit her teeth and showed me. Afterwards when I went to cook it she disappeared for several hours. She hates killing things. I feel so bad for being so clueless and having to have her teach me things she hates to do. I watched every single thing she did and copied it on my fish and I think I've got it down. Hopefully she won't have to explain anything else to me and I'll be responsible for the fish from now on.

She reappeared around noon, after I had eaten the fish and washed the pan. We got an egg from the chickens the other day so she ate that and drank some milk from the goat (I'm so glad we have something she can drink!) and then she went to work on the fireplace.

The fish was so good, especially after weeks of just staling bread, hardening cheese, and nuts. I feel bad but…I need to eat, too.

**April 8, 1949**

We finally went into town! We flew the fifteen miles and got off right outside of town and walked in the rest of the way. We got a lot of funny looks when we walked into town without a horse or a carriage but with my hair tied up and Elphaba's hood on tight nobody recognized us. We lied and said we were closer than we were and the walk wasn't a big deal.

I'm so glad I filched as much money as possible before we left. The Fliaans accepted the green pennies with only slightly confused questions. We told a half truth and just said we had moved recently and had yet had time to change money because we've been setting up the homestead. It's true, isn't it?

Anyway, we split up the list and went to get our stuff. And we did! We got all the things on the list, plus Elphaba bought a few apples and peaches. She didn't tell me earlier, but after she eats the fruit she is planning to start to grow fruit trees! Of course, they won't start to have fruit for a long time but it will still be fun!

We got all the stuff out of town by carrying it and once we were out of eyeshot Elphaba summoned her broom and we levitated everything and flew home. All the magic use tired me out, so after we got everything inside and unpacked, I took a nap. Magic takes a lot out of you, and I haven't had a lot of food recently. Hopefully with all this stuff we don't have to go back to town for a while!

Elphaba finished the fireplace chimney and tomorrow she's going to start cutting down trees and will be starting to build up the loft! I'm so excited to have a bedroom again!

**April 9, 1949**

The flowers in the fields are poppies! I went down to fish this morning and I could see some starting to bloom.

Elphaba is going to be so excited—she loves poppies!

**April 10, 1949**

Elphaba has been notching, levitating, and stacking logs all day. She says she is almost done with the walls and she is going to need my help with the outside walls while she works on paneling the inside walls. She is going to be exhausted tonight after using all that magic and physical exertion.

But soon she'll be working on the roof which means we can set up the bed stand soon! No more sleeping on a straw mattress on the floor!


End file.
